The Dancing Princesses
by seamusog
Summary: A king is trapped in an endless masquerade. Wolfyuu/Yuuram --- another story written in a different style. I'd like your feedback on the execution of this fairy tale --oh, and this is not AU though it reads like it--.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Maruma in any of its forms.

**A/N:** This was written for kkm_challenge, Prompt: Masquerade. It's written in a different style and I would really really love your feedback (negative or positive); it feeds my ego ^_^.

* * *

**The Dancing Princesses**

Once upon a time in a land far away lived a king in a tower. All days he spent alone in that round room with only two windows to look out at the wide expanse of the beautiful kingdom. He spoke to no one and no one spoke to him. But this did not matter since the king spent his days lying on top of an enormous four-poster bed under heavy velvet canopies sleeping.

Every day, as the sun was setting, several groomsmen and ladies-in-waiting would come into his round room at the very top of that very tall tower, wake him with the most sumptuous breakfast of sweet breads, honey and jam, fruits, meats, eggs and different types of porridges. After the meal, they would remove his worn boots and the previous evening's clothes, bathe him using the most fragrant oils, brush his dark locks until they were gleaming, and dress him in silks and damasks and expensive linens and new leather boots. All throughout, the king would blush (due mostly to the presence of women), though he had stopped complaining long ago. It was the same every evening for as many days as the king could remember.

In the middle of the round room in that very tall tower stood a small round table of the finest marble. On it laid a rectangular piece of white cloth with strings on the top two corners. It was plain except for a stylized drawing in black ink of an animal. Each evening the king would place the cloth on his face and tie a knot with the strings behind his head. Each evening it was a different mask and a different animal. Some evenings, the king could tell what the animal was. Some evenings, he couldn't.

The king had smiled one time when he saw the drawing was that of a panda. And he smiled again when he saw the one with a koala. One evening, it had been a striped bear with wings and antennae, and the king felt a sharp loneliness coalesce in his heart. It had taken him many days after that to be able to look at another drawing of an animal gracing any mask.

The groomsmen and ladies-in-waiting stood in two lines by the door waiting for him to exit. He walked out the door saying thank you to the servants. Right outside the room, in the air in front of him floated a sphere of light the size of his fist. He stepped towards it and it moved. He followed the glowing orb down the long spiral staircase for what seemed like an eternity. He went through a long dark corridor until it intersected a brighter hallway where he joined a stream of other well-dressed men and women, also, wearing similar masks. His sphere floated up to join the other glowing balls flowing in a river of light above their heads.

They followed the glowing river past the ballroom and the throne room, past several studies, past the library and the treasure rooms, past the dining rooms and kitchens. They went down several subterranean levels to the underground rooms where the secret treasuries were hidden. And past them they went down, down, down, until the stairs became wider and more open and the air smelled fresher. The revelers found themselves in a large cavern facing a lake that was emanating a strange luminosity from within its depths. The river of glowing orbs poured down onto this lake like a radiant waterfall.

In the middle of the wide expanse of water sat an island with two bridges connecting it to either side of the lake's perimeter. One was a plain wooden bridge punctuated with a few lamps while the other was a white stone bridge bright with many lamps and floating light balls. On the island stood a large building with tall glass windows, opened French doors spilling onto low balconies, and a high roof that almost touched the ceiling of the cavern.

The parade of well-dressed, masked revelers proceeded to the white stone bridge. The king went along with the crowd, but kept mostly to himself. It was the only time of the evening, walking from his tower to the island, that he could be alone with his thoughts. He always enjoyed the magical quality of the cavern and the lake. Though he would scowl when he got to the grandiose double doors of the building. Music flowed out as the people flowed in.

The stone edifice sitting on the island on the luminescent lake consisted mainly of one large chamber. It was a ballroom. In size, it was easily the largest ballroom in the kingdom being at least three times the regular ballroom in the castle. It was probably the largest ballroom in _any_ kingdom. There was no orchestra visible but music flowed everywhere. Tables filled with a wide array of food and drink were scattered in various areas away from the dance floor. A few couches laid on the marble floor in regular intervals between the tall windows. One long wall of French doors led out onto an enormous garden filled with more benches, small tables and chairs, a suitable place to escape the soirée or to find a little piece of privacy. But the masterpiece in the ballroom floated several meters above the heads of the attendees. Instead of chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, the ballroom was illuminated by more of the glowing spheres. But these came in all different colors and they floated this way and that way creating different patterns which corresponded to the waltzes being played by the orchestra. One could sit there for hours and watch the intricate dance the colored spheres wove.

For as long as the king could remember, he attended these balls every night. He hated them. Not that he hated dancing nor did he hate mingling with the pleasant company. However, he felt he was supposed to be doing something else. Like ruling.

But the Queen and the Dukes and the Earls and the Barons and the assorted advisors and ministers of the kingdom told him it was tradition.

He hated tradition.

Tradition, for example, said that he needed to pick a Consort among the masked attendees. Tradition said the dances would continue until he made his choice. Tradition said he would attend these balls for as long as he could foresee for the king had yet to experience even a slight desire to wed.

He didn't understand all these rules. Why did it have to be a ball? Why did it last all night? Why did it have to occur on a secret island in the middle of an enchanted lake several meters underground? Why did they have to wear these masks? To end the balls, he had to dance with his chosen three times consecutively, after which he had to lift both their masks and seal their bond with a kiss. Why did it have to be that way, tradition did not fully explain. Tradition though made it plainly clear those actions consisted the full wedding ceremony. Therefore, the king was careful to always pick a different partner for each dance.

The Queen and the Dukes and the Earls and the Barons and the assorted advisors and ministers of the kingdom had become more and more frustrated with the king's stubbornness. But they had no choice. Tradition clearly dictated the terms. And so the endless waltz continued each night as the kingdom held its breath, its existence hanging suspended on the caprice of this obstinate king.

* * *

In the land of human mortals, the demon king sat in front of the wise man patiently, or as patiently as he could muster for he was not a patient man. He had been listening to fairy tales since midmorning and he had not even come close to getting the answer he wanted. Ten months worth of patience had already been wasted in as many hours and it did not look like the wise man was anywhere near completing his dawdling discourse.

"They walked on until they came upon a great lake. Twelve boats with twelve princes in them were waiting." The wise man spoke lost in the telling of the story. "Each princess went into one..."

"My Lord... Your Grace... Sir..." interrupted the demon king unsure of how to address the wise man which caused him no small amount of consternation as he always hated being improper. The wise man had refused to divulge his name and refused to allay the demon king's discomfort by indicating what type of address he would prefer. And so it went all throughout that day, the demon king would address him with several honorifics from 'Sir' to 'Your Eminence' to 'Wise Man'. "I am not sure what all these stories have to do with my... question."

"Your Majesty," the wise man replied in a tone that made it sound like he was enjoying a secret joke, "You came here all the way from another world. I thought you wanted to hear what I had to say regarding that little problem of yours."

"You have yet to even listen to what I have to say," the demon king bristled.

The wise man's black eyes contemplated the demon. He was in one word – sublime. The exquisite face, the golden hair, the brilliant eyes, the elegant figure. The wise man knew that if he let the demon out of the house, he would surely bewitch half the country. Now, if only his disposition was half as pleasing.

"I already know the situation," the wise man simply answered and hoped that the demon king would let him continue without further interruptions. But he knew better so he was not surprised when the demon king remonstrated.

"How can you know my dilemma when I myself don't?"

The wise man sighed. He predicted it would come to this. But he had hoped for once that he would be mistaken. The enchantment was strong and tricky and he would have to choose his words carefully or the months of hard work would be undone. It was a precarious balancing act, telling the demon king enough so he could accomplish his task but not enough that the enchantment would react.

"You wake up in your too large bed wondering why it feels wrong," the wise man answered. "Your nobles and your subjects look at you with an admiration you feel you don't deserve. There is a blurriness between your prejudiced childhood and your accomplishments. And you see this most when you look at your child. Your advisors felt it too a long time ago, but now it seemed they have forgotten. You see it sometimes on the eyes of your closest sibling, but it disappears too quickly before either of you can understand it. You have lost the voice of your god, but this is not an issue as your history tells you that he had at times gone silent for years on end. You do not need an heir since your god will select the next ruler. And if he is still silent, the aristocrats will. However, since you are very powerful, they hope you would supply them with a pool of candidates. You do not tell them you will not be able to give them one single heir because you know in your heart you will never marry. You don't know the reason and this bothers you more than it should."

The demon king sat with hands fisted on his knees, knuckles white. He felt angry with the senselessness of whatever it was that sent him to this world. He had gone to the priestess and saw the loneliness in her eyes and he resolved to go on this foolish quest despite the advice of his administrators.

He didn't know how he arrived at the wise man's abode. In the hopes of finding the voice of the demon god, he had thundered through the temple, barging into the inner sanctum and shoved his hand on the wall of water where he had years before received the god's blessing on his ascension to the throne.

The next thing he knew, the demon king found himself sitting in a small tub of water in a tiny room with the wise man standing over him with his hand held out. He didn't question how he got there nor how the wise man seemed to expect his arrival. He only took note of the rare combination of black hair and black eyes.

"You know your own faults," the wise man continued, "so I will not list them for you. You, also, understand your own strengths and I will not list those either. You should be ruling your kingdom and protecting your people. Yet, you are here. I cannot... There are..." he stopped several times as the words were getting too close to dangerous waters. "You sought me out without knowing and you found me. As I see, you have two choices. You can listen to everything I have to say no matter how trivial they sound to you. Or you can go back to the demon world and do what you think you should be doing."

"Your choices sound like no choice," the demon king pouted.

The wise man smiled at the childish petulance. "Now, where was I? Oh yes, the twelve dancing princesses... So they came upon a lake and there were twelve boats..."

* * *

Though the masquerades were held in his honor, the music did not stop when the king stepped through the threshold. Neither did the dancers stop dancing.

The king looked around to see if he recognized a few familiar figures. It was not an easy task. The masks, though seemingly made of plain white cotton, were enchanted to make it virtually impossible for people to recognize each other by looks alone. Though they only covered the face, they hid all physical attributes. One would have to know the other's voice or mannerisms to make any sort of identification. It frustrated the king to no end as it made making friends in this large room difficult. It was one of the major contention between him and the queen and the powers that be.

But the reason they said was the dreaded word: Tradition!

Perhaps tradition did have a reason for the masks. For wisdom would tell any fool that marriage based on looks was asking for trouble. But still, it would have made it easier for him to tell who was who. Besides, he thought, attraction did account for something.

He went by the tables first to get a drink bowing to several people as he passed. It was, he supposed, his own tradition now. He needed that first glass of wine before seeking out his first partner for the evening. It bolstered his courage and wet his throat.

The buffet tables were always full of food and drink but always empty of dirty dishes even though there was a constant stream of dancers who partook of the feast and who constantly left plates, glasses and other utensils. The king never saw a single servant refill the platters nor remove used dishes. But then he never saw a single glimpse of the orchestra and yet music permeated the chamber. It was another of those things that the king took for granted.

As he was sipping his wine, he felt it. That strange yet familiar presence. It had excited him the first time he felt it because it seemed to signify a change in the interminably dull existence of these endless balls. It was a few days ago that he became aware of it. But it had started to frustrate him because whenever he turned around, he could not find that unnameable thing. He didn't know what it was, whether it was just a feeling, a thought, some unknown magic, a strange substance, a person. It teased his mind but no matter how he searched, he could not pinpoint it.

He knew it always occurred by the tables and he had started spending a bit more time there instead of dancing.

He turned to look around some more, but just as it came without warning, it was gone. He walked around at a few more tables, chatting with a few men and a few women, but he didn't find it again.

* * *

The demon king stared at his two horses: one white, the other – royal black. He ordered the stable hand to saddle the white stallion. He stroke the black mare's head as if apologizing for preferring the white. He would have soothingly said her name except he never gave her one. In his head, for some unknown reason, he referred to her as Blue. But he never said that name out loud, as if he was afraid it would break some kind of spell and he would lose something very important in the process.

The white stallion, at any rate, was the better choice for this trip. He would attract less attention and he had more experience in battle in case they should encounter any dangers.

The demon king had spent weeks preparing for this. When he arrived back to his kingdom, he had written as much of the stories and lectures that the wise man told him, as much of it as he could remember. He spent many days poring over the notes and then poring over maps of his world. He spent many hours with his tutor going through history books and story books searching for folk tales.

After the long hours of study, he determined a place and time. When he informed his ministers of his plan, his top advisor glowered at him but said nothing. His tutor sulked. Various nobles protested. But they knew it would be useless to divert him when he had already made up his mind.

He had barely cleared the gate of the capitol when he stopped to wait for the horse that was following him. Even though he clearly ordered that this was a solitary voyage, he knew he would be followed.

"I ordered you to stay back," he told his loyal bodyguard when he came into view.

"I know, Your Majesty," the soldier answered smiling, "you can throw me in the dungeons for insubordination once we get back."

"I don't know why I bothered becoming king when no one is going to listen to me," the demon king said sourly.

"Well, we can sit here all day chatting about how terrible your subjects are. Or we can go and look for this lake of yours."

The demon king turned his head away as a smile threatened to break on his lips. For all his bluster, he was glad for the companionship, especially, from this person, a person he admired and who was the closest to understanding the demon king's need for this voyage.

They rode for many days before they reached their destination. They encountered very little trouble, a few bandits here and there which they quickly dispatched.

There was nothing special about the lake. It was neither large nor small, it was neither very blue nor very green. But it sat on the border of demon and human territories. On one side lay plains and farmland, on the other side the mountains and forest started.

They camped two days on the beach enjoying each other's company and talking about their childhood days. They woke early the third day before dawn arrived. The bodyguard built a fire even though the demon king could have made one with the snap of his fingers.

They looked at the sky towards the moon. It was at that stage when it was neither waning nor waxing, a perfect half moon. The sky started to lighten. The demon king took the demon mirror, which looked for all the world like a plain white and blue bowl, from one of the packs and they both walked towards the water.

They waited a few more minutes when it was neither daytime nor nighttime. The demon king handed his loyal guard the demon sword and checked one last time to make sure there was no other steel on him. He was only armed with an ivory knife that contained no iron.

The demon king took hold of the demon mirror and felt his power fill it. He didn't know if this would work, the wise man had spoken of a land between worlds, not belonging to any of the physical worlds, neither this nor the other nor any of the others that they've never visited. But at the same time the land, also, existed in all the worlds. And if the king was able to get to that land, he didn't know if he could ever return. He took one final look at his companion and gave him a bittersweet smile. That one look contained all the love for his kingdom and the trust he gave to the other in taking care of it.

* * *

...

**A/N: **Okay, another fic written in a different style and I would like your feedback. Comments, concrits, gushing adoration, flames, anything are welcomed.


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

**The Dancing Princesses**

The king danced with his seventh partner of the evening. He hadn't stepped on a toe once, a wonderful accomplishment for him despite the innumerable balls he had attended. Someone should be proud of him. He felt a lump of dull loneliness with that thought, but it disappeared quickly with the sprightly voice of his partner.

He had already forgotten her name. It was something like Dewdrop or Woodbark or maybe Sunbeam, they all had names like that.. She was bright and cheerful. She was probably pretty, the king thought as he tried to imagine the person behind the mask and the blue dress. He didn't remember whether he danced with her before.

It didn't matter. Bright and cheerful and, most likely, pretty, he had no desire to marry her. At the end of the song, he bowed to her and thanked her.

Before he could pick another partner, the Queen appeared in front of him. They always danced at least once. He bowed before her and she curtsied.

She never wore a mask and if he were to describe her, he would say she was the epitome of regal. He had met many royal persons in his lifetime, but for all the height of their position and the strength of their power, they looked like normal men and women. Some were beautiful, with long blond hair and golden eyes. Some were unattractive, with droopy eyes and wayward curls. Some were short, with paunches. Some were bald. Even he himself was clumsy and average-looking. This Queen was not anything like them. She had an ethereal beauty; she neither looked young nor old. She projected haughtiness about her, yet, at the same time felt gentle. He couldn't tell the color of her hair, one moment, he thought of gold, and in the next he thought of darkness. He didn't like looking into her eyes because they made his water, they seem to hold a terrible mystery and he had a suspicion that she never blinked. Perhaps, the person that came closest was an ex-prince...

The thought ended abruptly.

"Why do you still struggle against us," she asked in a voice that was neither loud nor soft, but it filled him with her presence. "What else could we do to convince you of the exigency of our existence."

"Perhaps, if we could do away with the masquerade and meet people under normal circumstances like talking or having dinner or playing games or something... I don't know how I'm suppose to pick a wife from just dancing with them where I can't even see their faces!"

"We have spoken of this many times and you already know."

"Yes, yes, it's tradition."

"Yet, I think you don't quite understand."

He looked at her and he felt lost.

* * *

It had been a long journey, but he had made it to the castle.

The demon king had been unsure of what to do when he first arrived in the land of limbo. He had decided to call it that because he got tired of thinking of it as the land between worlds, that was neither here nor there nor anywhere, the land that was and wasn't.

The people themselves didn't have any unifying physical characteristics. Some looked like they were from the demon race, some from the human race and even a few from the god race. Some looked like they belong to races he had never seen.

Travel through the land seemed safe, he never had to make use of his ivory knife nor his demon magic. He never felt hungry nor thirsty, even though he never took a bite nor a sip of the food and wine that strangers offered him.

He did realize after a few days of traveling that there was a strangeness in the people's actions, in the way they talked. He could always tell the ones that were, in his words, freshly spirited away. It took him several days to figure it out, but he finally did, the people always seemed to speak in the present. As if there was neither past nor future.

With that, he finally understood the danger of the land.

He headed towards the castle only because he didn't know where else to go. He had been paying close attention to all the conversations around him as he journeyed, for he was hoping to find some clue to what he was searching for. Only when he got closer to the capitol that he started to hear of a masquerade ball that happened every evening at the castle. It was the first thing he heard that matched any stories that the wise man told him. And it seemed as good as any reason to go and make it to the ball.

It had not been as straightforward as walking through the doors of the ballroom in a costume. He wished it were. But his efforts had started to pay off.

He started as a servant and, with his charm, had secured a post as a server. The first night had been confusing. The masks were not what he expected them to be. He had expected lots of feathers and sequins and glitter and different kinds of animals and fantastical creatures. Instead all the revelers wore plain white cloth in front of their faces. Each cloth sported a different character of what he thought looked like the alphabet of the wise man's world. He also didn't understand why none of them seem to notice him. Only after a few hours did he realize the masks were not there to hide the faces. They were an enchantment. None of the dancers could see the orchestra nor the servers nor the maids nor the soldiers. They only saw other dancers.

He had been irritated with that revelation. The moment he had stepped in the ballroom, he found what he was looking for. The thing that had been missing. The thing that his people had forgotten. He had found him. But the man wore a mask. The man couldn't see him!

He knew him and didn't know him. He felt the importance of this person to him personally and to his kingdom. His memories seemed to struggle in a murky swamp and he couldn't release them no matter how much he tried. But he was content to finally confirm that his quest was not purposeless.

He had spent a few more days serving before he found his chance. He had overheard a very tall man and a woman speaking in the hushed tones lovers often use. She was bored; she had no chance with the king. He was more than accommodating.

The demon king followed them through the stone bridge, past the luminescent lake, up the wide stairways, past the subterranean levels that contained hidden treasuries, past the dining rooms and the kitchens, past the treasuries and into the library. The couple had started divesting themselves of their clothing as soon as they opened the library doors. First came the masks, then the dress and the shirt and the pants and the petticoats. They left a trail as they ran to find a secure nook in the depths of the library.

The demon king didn't want to remove his own clothes but there was no help for it. He needed to be seen and it was the only way.

* * *

It was only the middle of the night and the king was already feeling tired. Not physically tired but mentally tired. The Queen had left as she usually did after their dance. He knew, however, that there were still some Dukes and Earls and Barons and assorted advisors and ministers at the ball watching and still hoped that tonight would be the night.

He was about to ask a girl with a slender figure to dance when he felt it. Again. He had been getting frustrated with it and he almost didn't want to turn and look because he knew it would disappear again. However, defying it was as futile as trying not to breath.

He turned but this time it stayed. He followed it and encountered the girl from earlier, the bright and cheerful and, most likely, pretty girl in the blue dress. Somehow she felt different. He couldn't tell because the mask hid everything except the costume and person's essence, their personality and mannerism. The dress looked the same and the flower on the mask looked the same, but this was where the strange yet familiar presence was emanating.

He bowed to her and asked her to dance. She started to bow, stopped, then curtsied. She took his hand and he led her to the dance floor. There was a slight confusion as the girl tried to put his hand on his waist and that's when he recognized it.

It was the scent of home. From the depths of his being, he knew this scent. He smelled it everyday on his bed as he drifted to sleep and it was the first thing that greeted him as his dreams left. It accompanied him practically everywhere he went. But it was not his scent. It was someone else's.

This scent had been absent for a very long time. It had not accompanied him to his room in the very tall tower. It did not saturate the sheets on the large bed under the heavy velvet canopies. And this was the first time the king had sensed it in all the masquerade balls that he had been attending for as long as he could remember.

Why was there nothing before the balls? Yet, he knew this scent that did not belong here.

He stepped on her toes and he apologized. Not that it was his fault. The girl was alternately trying to lead and follow.

"It's alright," she replied.

For the third time that evening, something rattled in his brain. The voice was familiar. It was low for a girl's voice but higher than most men. He felt that voice had been ringing in his head for a very long time. It would scold him and call him names, but then it would speak softly with love and understanding. That voice always made him happy no matter what it was saying. He had relied on it for a very long time.

He was lost in the voice and the scent and the strange yet familiar presence. And the soft calloused hand. And the firm muscles under the dress. And the toes that he kept smashing. And the irritated sighs that were issuing from the behind the mask. He was lost and he was afraid. He didn't speak fearful that words would break the magic.

The girl was the one that spoke, "Your Majesty..."

"Yes?" _Please don't disappear._

"This is the third waltz."

"I know," the king replied. _Please stay_.

They were silent almost until the end when she spoke again.

"I hope you know I _am_ a man," the girl -- no the man in the blue dress stated.

"I know," the king answered.

The song ended.

"I heard you always danced with the princesses but never the princes. I don't want to fool you into marrying someone you don't want..."

The king lifted both their masks, and pressed his lips onto the other's barely getting the words out, "I don't care."

The world dissolved around them. Lost memories began to fall into place. The enchantment was breaking. The king closed his eyes and whispered onto the lips of his partner, "I had forgotten. But I knew I had to wait."

His partner answered brokenly in between kisses, "No matter where, no matter when, in this world or any other, I will always come for you."

More pieces fall in. They held on afraid that if they end too soon, they would lose each other again.

The masks loosened and flew off in the cool breeze and the last of the enchantment faded away. The king was hungrily ravaging the soft lips of his dance partner, one hand clutching the soft blond hair and the other maintaining the tight grip on the other's waist.

The sun was beating on his head and the cool breeze on his bare back. His mouth was full of someone else's tongue...

Tongue?

Bare back?

The king's body stiffened and his eyes flew open.

Black eyes met green.

"Eh?!!" the king cried out as he backpedaled and tripped over a white and blue bowl and his naked bottom landed on the cold shallow water on the shore of a medium sized lake bordered by tall mountains on one side and flat plains on the other. It was midday.

"W-W-Wolfram!"

"What, wimp?!"

"Y-Y-You're naked! And kissing me! And... I'm... I'm... I'm..."

"Your Majesty! Wolfram! You made it back!" a pleasant voice shouted.

The king turned to the beach to see his name-giver run towards them and he quickly covered the incriminating evidence of his... it really didn't help for Wolfram to be standing naked over him like that.

"Yuuri, Conrad, please call me Yuuri," he said absently.

"I don't know why you're so embarrassed Yuuri..."

"I know, I know, you're my fiancé."

"No, wimp," Wolfram said as he knelt on one knee in front of his king, "I'm your husband."

* * *

end

**A/N:** Okay, tell me what you think. Comments, concrits, gushing adoration, flames, anything are welcomed.


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